


Study Group

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Jealous Jim "Chief" Hopper, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Post S3Jim is safe, sound, and sleeping on Joyce Byers' couch. A perceived rival could change all of that.
Relationships: Joyce Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 16
Kudos: 74





	Study Group

Chicago, IL

Spring 1986

The sound of the doorbell, drill-like and droning, woke Jim from his slumber on the Byers’ couch. He uncurled, stretched, and then shivered as his bare feet made contact with the hardwood floor. From the sound of rushing water in the bathroom, he figured Joyce was showering, and the kids were out of the house, as it was Saturday morning, and the neighborhood kids had taken a liking to Will and El. 

He grumbled out a warning for patience when the doorbell rang again, sleep deprivation making him irritable. Though Joyce had offered him her bedroom -even insisting they co-sleep - Jim insisted on the couch, and there he had slept since being brought back from Russia less than a week prior. It beat a prison cot any old day, and Joyce’s offer, while tempting, was implied a huge step - one that hitched his breath and filled him with bone-crushing self-doubt.

Anyway, it was nine AM on a Saturday, so whoever was hammering on that rusted bullhorn of a doorbell was about to get an eyeful of half-naked man. 

“Can I help you?” Jim asked as he threw open the door. His bleary eyes focused instantly at the sight of a young man in his early thirties. The man in question was tall -but not as tall as Jim - muscular, winsome, and clutching heavy textbooks against his chest. The confidence in his symmetrical face faltered a bit when he took in the sight of Jim.

“Oh - uh - I’m here for Joyce?”

“Uhhh…”

The sound of a door flying open from behind Jim caught both men’s attention. Joyce stumbled out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head, blouse partially buttoned. She was fumbling with the fly of her jeans.

“Charlie! Oh gosh, I am so sorry. I’ll be ready for you in just a sec, okay? Maybe have a seat in the dining room? Hop could you please put a shirt on, maybe?”

“Joyce…” Jim grumbled, his bad mood rising hot and tense in his shoulders.

Joyce ripped the towel from her hair and ran a hand through the damp strands. “I’ve been travelling, Charlie, and I completely forgot we had a - Hop, this is Charlie, Charlie this is Hop - er - Jim. Be right back!” She hurried down the hallway, out of sight, the door to her room slamming audibly.

“Charlie.”

“John.”

Jim’s upper lip curled, and his eyebrow twitched. “Let me show you to the dining room.”

“I know my way around.”

“Oh, you know your way around, huh?” Jim sneered as the young upstart walked into the dining room and settled in at the head of the table. “You want a coffee?”

Charlie opened his textbook and shrugged without making eye contact. “That sounds great. Are you Joyce’s bro-”

“Well you know your way around, so go for it. Get me one while you’re at it, son.”

Charlie chuckled nervously, and looked up, though he still did not meet Jim’s gaze. “Uh… okay.” He stood and disappeared into the kitchen just as Joyce entered the dining room, arms laden with books. She took a seat to the right of Charlie’s designated spot. 

“Are you being nice?” Joyce asked. She noticed that Jim was still shirtless, and wrinkled her nose with a delicate snort.

“Who’s Charlie?” He inquired, taking a seat at the other end of the table. 

This time Joyce scoffed, and gave Jim her patented ‘How dare you’ looks. He steeled himself for an explosion. 

“Charlie is a classmate. We’re part of the same study group, if you must know. It’s my turn to host.”

Jim looked around. “Group implies more than two, Joyce.”

“Charlie is very prompt!”

“Oh, hey Joyce,” a voice came from the kitchen. “Amelia and Conrad are both sick today. They won’t be able to make it. I hope you don’t mind having me all to yourself.”

Jim started to rise, his mouth opening to give a retort, Joyce cut him off with a threatening look and a low, animalistic noise.

“Did you just growl at me?” He asked, settling back into his chair and leaning in her direction. Joyce stood and made her way to the chair to Jim’s right.

“Knock it off,” she warned, her voice soft but steely. 

“Knock what off? Am I ruining your date?”

Joyce swatted his bare shoulder. “It’s not a date, we are studying. I am in school now. This is what people in school do. You have no idea how hard it was to find a group of people in the ballpark of my age to bond with at that place, none. Charlie is a friend, and nothing more. Now if you have anything else to say, please take at least fifteen minutes to mull it over and PLEASE put on a shirt while you’re doing it.”

“I love you.”

\----

“Uhhh…” was Joyce’s articulate response to Jim’s spontaneous, and shirtless, love confession. Jim, for his part, had gone a deep shade of scarlet from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Joyce.”

“We’re just studying, Hop! Look.” She drew attention to a slim oval case in the middle of the table. She opened it, drew out a pair of silver, wire-framed glasses, snapped the case shut, and perched said glasses on her nose. She crossed her eyes and grimaced at Hop.

“Is this the face of a seductress?”

“You wear glasses… ?” His gaze was soft and reverent, his mouth opened slightly. It made Joyce feel… something.

“Owens made us all get an exam. Now I don’t get headaches - Hop! You can’t just say you love me when company is over.”

“Why?” She didn’t resist when one hand came up to cup her cheek. She sighed, and leaned into the caress as he leaned forward. “Joyce, the way I feel when I’m with you is–”

“Coffee!” Charlie announced in a sing-song voice. He re-entered the dining room, bearing three cups on a chintzy metal tray.

Jim growled with frustration, and stood. The abrupt withdrawal of contact made Joyce gasp. Jim gave a blistering look at Charlie, grabbed his mug, and stalked away. The heavy descending footsteps told Joyce he was heading for the basement, undoubtedly to tinker away angrily at the unfinished spare bedroom Joyce had started - meant to be a vacation suite for Jonathan and Nancy.

Joyce took her mug, and smiled at Charlie, wanting desperately to smooth things over and bring things back to business as usual so she could study for this damn test.

That lasted all of five minutes.

“It’s a bad time, Charlie. ”

“I figured. I can come back when the rest of the gang are available. ”

“Probably for the best.”

She excused herself, and made her way to the basement.

_____

Joyce padded softly down the wooden stairs, heart hammering clear to her throat as she turned the corner and entered the half-finished basement room, just beyond the laundry nook. She grabbed a t-shirt from the line before entering, spying Jim hammering away at a wall, the strong muscles of his bare back rippling with the effort. He had returned from Russia a changed man in more ways than one. 

Joyce took a second to enjoy the view before crossing the room, calling his name, and touching him on the shoulder. He gasped, and jerked about to face her, the hammer flying from his hands (Joyce narrowly dodged the thing as it breezed past her left knee and clattered to the cement floor), his eyes wide - his expression was one of a man completely caught off his guard. 

“Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again!” He snapped, his voice tinged with an anxious sharpness that made her chest ache. Of course he was on edge. God knows what had gone on in that prison. She wordlessly handed him the shirt, which he pulled over his head while mumbling a sheepish apology.

“It’s okay,” Joyce assured.

“No. When I was locked up in that hole, I promised myself I’d never raise my voice at you again. Like I did before everything...” Jim’s voice trailed off and he looked away, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. 

“You don’t have to keep beating yourself up like this,” Joyce stated as she stooped to pick up the hammer. “That’s in the past.” She set to reinforcing the beam he had been tinkering with before her interruption. 

“It isn’t if I keep doing it.” 

She shrugged and held out her hand for a nail, which he retrieved from a nearby box. 

“There’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Charlie.” She didn’t look up from her work when she explained this. 

“It’s not my place. I shouldn’t have gotten so--”

“I want it to be your place.”

The sound of nails spilling onto the floor finally made her look up to meet his eyes. He appeared stricken, and slack-jawed. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he studied her, waiting for the punchline. 

“Hop?”

“What do you mean, you ‘want it to be my place’?”

Joyce kicked away at the nails, clearing a path for her to step closer, so that she had to crane her neck to look upwards into his face. She stood so close that her chest nearly brushed against his abdomen. 

“I invited you to share my room.”

Jim shook his head and took a step back. “Joyce, I can’t make you take the couch.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You - uh-...” Again, he shook his head, as he stammered and tried to find a thread of logic. His brain and his heart wanted to follow her words to their obvious conclusion, but that guarded, defensive side of him refused to pave the way. 

She reached up and cupped his face between her hands. 

“I want to share my room with you. And my bed. And my life.” She spoke slowly, as if explaining a new concept to a small child, her brown eyes wide and expectant as her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Like in the - you know - that way where we - where I-”

“Where you give me ‘happy screams’.”

Jim jerked away with a sudden, nervous laugh. 

“Where did you--”

“El’s favorite turn of phrase.”

“How did she...” he snorted. “Max.”

“Max,” Joyce agreed before they both shared a chuckle. Now it was Jim’s turn to catch hold of Joyce, his big hands framing her face. He stroked at her cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze made her thighs tremble. 

“You want this? Us? Are you sure?” His questions came out soft, but rapid.

Joyce nodded. “When you agreed to that Enzo’s date, I immediately made plans to put out after dessert.”

His lips were upon hers before she was able to say another word. He strained a bit, with one hand on her cheek, and the other stroking at the curve of her waist, before scooping her up into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he walked her over to the one finished wall, pressing her against it as their mouths opened and his tongue stroked against hers. 

Joyce groaned when she felt his hardness press insistently against her core, and gasped as one hand traveled up her shirt, to cup one cotton clad breast. His thumb and forefinger teased her nipple into a sharp point, and heat shot straight to the already aching point between her thighs. 

“Hop-” she sighed against his mouth. He growled and nipped at her lower lip, before trailing kisses across her cheek and then to the sensitive area behind her ear. 

“You - ah - we should do this in the bedroom. The cement wall is murder on my back.”

Wordlessly, he carried her up the stairs as though she weighed nothing. Joyce felt a thrill at the solid strength of his arms and chest, his muscles hard and unyielding from months upon months of hard labor. The thrill soured somewhat, by the sadness of what he had to endure to accomplish this new, radically different physique - but then she was pressed against the hallway wall near her bedroom, his beard bristling electric against the smooth skin of her neck as he kissed the hollow of her throat, and nothing unpleasant could exist in tandem with such an exquisite sensation. 

Joyce thought Jim might take her then and there, as he shed his jeans in the hallway, and kicked them aside, and his fingers worked under her shirt to free the clasp of her bra, but he backed up against the door, turned the handle, and in they went. 

Jim gently laid her onto the bed, and then took a few moments to observe his surroundings as he knelt over her. The room was well-sized, pale blue, and well lit with a large window that allowed the noon sun to trickle in through sheer, white curtains. Every stick of furniture from Joyce’s old room in Hawkins was present, but they appeared cheerier, more inviting in a different, lighter space. It suited her greatly, and he felt a surge of pride in his chest, for being invited into such an intimate and precious inner-sanctum. He could very much see himself here.

“Jim.”

“Huh?”

“Wouldn’t you rather look at my tits?”

He gasped slightly at the jest, and looked down to see that she had thrown her shirt and bra to one side. The sight of her, half-naked, with her dark hair spread across the navy blue bedspread made his mouth water ever-so-slightly. He covered her breasts with rough, calloused palms, teasing at the nipples with his thumbs, before leaning down to take one hardened point into his greedy, searching mouth. His hands trailed down her sides, over her abdomen, and then worked to remove her jeans and panties as she arched up slightly, the most delicious whimper tumbling from her mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Jim murmured as his lips followed the path that his hands had traversed a moment ago. He pushed her panties down her hips, and they joined her jeans on the floor. Her scent was heaven, dizzying and heady. He placed a kiss on one thigh, the other, and then his mouth was upon the wet and aching crux of her desire, chuckling as she squeaked.

“Oh - oh Hop - that’s -”

“I want to,” he murmured, anticipating her protest and licking into her with a flat, exploring tongue.

“I want you to - I just meant - Oh! Don’t stop...”

Joyce couldn’t form words for a good long while, as Jim sucked and teased at her flesh. Her heels were firmly planted on the middle of his back, and her fingers clutched at his scalp, and the hair that was just beginning to grow back from prison issued buzz-cut that had made her gasp when she first laid eyes on it. Now she was gasping for an altogether different reason. She was afraid for his poor nose, as her hips bucked violently against his ministrations. He used the hand not busy at fucking into her with long thick finger, to press her hips down as he devoured at the juices that flooded his mouth upon her orgasm. 

She tasted herself on his lips as he situated himself above her, resting his weight on his elbows, and leaned down to kiss her. He nuzzled his nose against hers, and gazed down in wonder, waiting for permission. Joyce wrapped one leg about his waist, and raised her hips, giving him a gentle nod. 

Jim thanked God in heaven that he had brought her off with his mouth, because she was so hot and tight around his cock that he knew he wouldn’t last long enough to give her real satisfaction this way. He didn’t move for the longest moment, afraid to lose control completely inside of her. 

“Hopper, you can fuck me now,” she whispered, trepidation in her voice.

He managed a tight chuckle before sliding his hands under her buttocks and thrusting into her, slowly and carefully. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head tilted back, her mouth opening in a wordless cry. 

She was everything to him. 

Ultimately, his self-control shattered. She clung to him for dear life as he picked up his pace, his hips snapping in an erratic rhythm. If only they had done this sooner; if only he hadn’t been so angry and foolish that summer; if only he had jacked off in the bathroom that morning.

She tensed against him, her walls squeezing around him like a velvet vice, and he hoped it was a sign that he had done something right, for immediately after he came apart, spilling into her with abandon.

When it was over, they snuggled against one another, her head resting against his chest - her wild wavy hair tickling his nose as he faded in and out of consciousness.

“No more couch?” She asked in a small, vulnerable voice that made his heart ache. 

“Among other things,” he murmured, pressing kisses on the top of her head. 


End file.
